Just You Wait
by thatwritermadeofpotatoes
Summary: How did Burr deal with his regrets after he shot Hamilton? How did our other characters react? This shows what Burr and the Hamilsquad did after finding out about Alexander's death. Multi-chapter fic, from various characters' POV.
1. Aaron Burr

"Just you wait…"

The last words I heard from my friend, my enemy. I had walked towards Alexander the moment my bullet had struck him in the ribs. But, I was ushered away, left with only my thoughts as he was rowed back across the Hudson. I was in too much of a shock, partly because he had repeated my mantra, partly because I hadn't. Because I had shot him with the intent of death, because I thought it was him or me. Because he came with the intent of having both parties leave with their lives, not regrets. I was too quick to judgement, I hadn't noticed that he wasn't aiming at me.

He was aiming at the sky. A show of bravery, of truce.

Now, as I sit in the rowboat with my friend, William P. Van Ness, I gaze up at the sky. I watched the clouds glide across the glowing light of the rising sun. I watched the sun steadily climb into its position above me. I imagined a bullet piercing through the clouds, ending our dispute.

If only I had just waited.

As we waited to reach the edge of the river, I thought about many things. I thought about the first time I had met Hamilton, in a bar in I thought I was the one thing in my life I could control; As it turns out, I can't even control _that._

We hit land, and I wonder what seems best to do next: Alcohol or sleep.

Damn rest to hell, I need a drink.

I clamber out of the boat, heading straight for the bar. I hear wailing in the streets, crashing through my ears like harsh waves. A man hastens towards me, grabbing the front of my shirt and leaning in.

"You'd better hide." He whispers, before releasing me and hurrying across the street.

They say Angelica and Eliza, were both by his side when he died. When he died... _you killed him, Burr. You actually killed the man._ When I first met him, I had a feeling I would be around when he died. But more of a He-Died-Of-Old-Age and I was there beside him, because we both thought we'd end up being lawyers together. He wanted, so badly, to work with me when he first came up and introduced himself. His enthusiasm rubbed off on me, I guess. But, not once, did I think that I...I would do _that._ I didn't want to be the one that caused his death.

I numbly opened the bar's door, stilling at the sight before me.

A dozen or so men, all in revolutionary get-ups, sat at the tables. They had all turned towards the door at the sound of the bell, fixing their cold gazes on me upon realizing who I was. Damn, I forgot how quickly information went around in New York. Gossip was, unfortunately, abundant in the insidious city.

I kept my eyes straight, avoiding their accusing glares. _Just don't talk, Aaron, or smile, for that matter._ I stiffly walked over to the bar, taking the seat closest to the door. _A faster exit, if the need arises._ I asked for a whiskey, hoping to down it quickly and leave. The barman grunted in response, his eyes suspicious slits. He slid a glass to me from his end of the bar, looking me once over before going back to his duties. The drink had barely slipped past my lips before the bar door burst open, a frighteningly familiar figure facing me.

"Burr, you son of a bitch."

 **A/N: Did I do that prompt right? I don't even know, man, I'm way too brain dead to even understand prompts anymore... No, I definitely think I did this wrong... Anyways, I got a prompt request from BriCat03 to get the hamilsquad together for Alex's death and see what they did when they followed what he said, "Just you wait." and ended up deviating from that a quite bit I think (Sorry, Bri!) and making it more of a "what did they each do/how did they react after they found out he died" kind of thing, so I apologize if this isn't what y'all had in mind, BriCat03! I'm going to do a couple chapters for this, probably, linking them together and showing different character's reactions. Please read and review!**


	2. Eliza Schuyler-Hamilton

**A/N: Heeey! Yay, an update! I'm soo sorry this took so long, school is kicking my butt:( But, I finally finished this and it ended up being from Eliza's POV, so sorry if you guys wanted Angelica, but she'll definitely be the next chapter!**

I had been reading to Philip when they came. Angelica had been sat next to me, watching the people walk by. She had been the one to notice the mounted men stop in front of my house. I had handed off my book to her, silently asking her to stay with Philip. She nodded and I headed for the door. Stepping onto the porch, I watched the men line up, immediately recognizing their uniforms.

Two revolutionaries, each slightly panting as they dismounted their horses. The taller one, a young man with strikingly blonde hair, stepped forward and bowed to me.

"Mrs. Hamilton, there's been an incident." He began, his voice wavering. "Mr. Hamilton has been shot and is requesting you at the Pendleton household."

My vision blurred, and I fell backwards. The young men jumped forward, catching my arms before I could hit the door.

"Ma'am, are you okay?!" The other one asked me, keeping his hand on my right arm.

I slowly nodded. Alexander had been… had been shot? But, he had a meeting this morning he… he had a meeting. Oh, my Lord.

It was a duel, wasn't it, Alexander? You told me it was a meeting so I wouldn't worry, didn't you, you bastard!? Oh, God, my husband…

"Take me to him." I whispered. They each nodded, guiding me to one of their horses. The shorter man helped me mount, asking if I could ride on my own.

"Yes, I can." I murmured. My eyes stared straight, unable to move any other way. He gave a hand signal to the blond, indicating that we leave him behind. The other man nodded, turning to me.

"We can go, Mrs. Hamilton."

We rode ten blocks, ten agonizingly long blocks, before we made it to the Pendleton's home. I swung off my horse, tossing the reins over to the young man, who had jumped off his steed. Running up the brick steps, I opened the door without so much as a knock. Nathaniel Pendleton, bless his heart, wasn't even fazed by my sudden appearance, and grabbed my hand. He weaved me through the kitchen, through the sitting area, and right into the private parlor. I halted in the doorway, accidentally ripping Nathaniel back with my tight grip on his arm. _Alexander, my love…_

They had laid him on the desk, papers strewn across the floor around it. Blood… blood heavily trailed along the rugs leading in, pooling at the bottom of the table where my broken husband lies. I surged forward, not caring about stepping in the red liquid on the floor. His left hand was laid across his stomach, a pile of bloodied rags sat atop his left ribs. His right hand was hanging off the edge of the desk, fingers lightly twitching. The doctor, Mr. Hosack, I recognized from before. He looked up the sound of my dress skirting across the floor.

"Mrs. Hamilton, come in. They brought him in a half an hour ago, he lost a lot of blood on the way over." He quickly explained. I was gasping for air, gripping Alexander's limp hand.

"Is he alive?" I choked. He nodded.

"Yes. But you have to understand, the bullet entered right between his ribs." He somberly told me.

"Can you hear me? Please, Alexander…" I whispered to my still husband.

"I'm doing everything I can, but the wound was already infected when he arrived." Dr. Hosack gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

"No, no… Alexander!" I pleaded, gripping his hand tighter to my chest.

"E… Eliza…" Alexander murmured, a line of blood slowly seeping between his lips. I gasped, bringing my hand to the side of his ashen face.

"I did exactly what… you said not to do…" He stuttered, the blood in his mouth pouring out even more with the motion.

"I know, I know… I know, I know…" I shushed. "I know you did everything you wanted to…"

I was silently sobbing, watching his half-open brown eyes slowly lose their light.

"Even before we got to ten… I was aiming for the sky.."

"Shh, I know, I know…" I gently cupped his face, wiping his tears away. "I know, save your strength and stay alive… Who did this, Alexander?"

A small smile crossed his lips, looking extremely out of place in such a dark situation. "Aaron Burr… was talking shit…"

I shut my mouth, anger filling my eyes. For Burr, of course, but also for my reckless husband.

"Alexander… Why? Why must you never leave anything alone?!" I yelled. "Why is the only thing you'll ever leave alone your family?!" I broke down, burying my face in his dusty, maroon-covered jacket. _Why do you have to leave me alone?_

 _"_ Eliza…" He coughed up some more red liquid. "My love, take your time… raise a glass to freedom..."

 _No, no, I won't live without… Alexander?_

"No!" I screamed in anguish as his hand stopped holding onto mine. His chest stopped rising up, he went completely still. He… he was gone…

I couldn't let go of his jacket, of his hand, of him.

Nathaniel's wife, Susannah, came up next to me. She put her hand atop of mine, which was still clutching Alexander's cold, unmoving hand. I raised my head, locking eyes with the kind woman.

"I've sent a messenger for Miss Angelica, Eliza." She quietly let me know. I steadily nodded, the tears still streaming down my face.

New tears emerged from my eyes, prompting me to violently sob. Susannah gently pulled my hand from my dead husband, holding it and wrapping her free arm around me in a motherly hug. She and Nathaniel were older than Alexander and I, if only by a few years. But she was very kind, and took on a motherly role to everyone in the neighborhood.

"Eliza..." _Angelica._

I pulled away from Susannah, still holding her left hand, to look at my sister. She was crying, yet stood tall and confident.

Angelica was looking above me, at my husband on the table. Her eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears, she whispered to him.

"Alexander…"

Her hand flew to her mouth, muffling the sobs. She looked at me, sitting in a puddle of dress, looking up at her through bleary eyes. She burst forward, dropping to the ground and sweeping me into her arms. Immediately, she began to rub circles on my back, a trick that always calmed me down as a child. Susannah had backed up, rising up and going to her husband, who was talking with Dr. Horsack in the corner.

"Oh, God, Eliza…" She muttered into my hair. "I'm so sorry, love."

"He…he said it was a meeting, Angie…" I whispered into her shoulder. "He went to a…a duel.."

She stopped rubbing my back. Slowly, she pulled away, pushing the strands of hair of my wet face.

"This happened because of a duel?" She whispered. I nodded _yes_. "With who? Who did this?"

I swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. "He said it was Burr… that he had said something…"

Her face went straight from caring to furious. Her eyes darkened, she began to grind her teeth.

"Eliza… I need to leave." She quietly stated. "Do you want me to take you back to the house?"

I shook my head. _I want to stay with him for a bit longer, I want to talk to him for just a bit longer._ She understood, giving me a quick hug. She rose from the ground with determination glinting in her eyes. She turned, holding her head high and strode towards the door. I put my hand up.

"Wait! Angelica, where are you going to go?" I yelled, as she was already half way out of the parlor's door. She halted in the hallway.

"I need to go see a certain someone, Eliza." She said in a low voice. I noticed that her hands were clenched into fists, hanging at her sides.

"Angie, don't. Please, don't… I can't lose you too!" I shouted, as she continued walking, faster than before. I heard the Pendleton's front door slam, signaling that Angelica had left.

Undoubtedly to confront Alexander's murderer.

 **A/N: Please, read and review, it makes me so goshdarn happy and motivated to know that people want more:) Thanks for reading!**


	3. Angelica Schuyler-Church

**A/N: HOLY MOLY THAT TOOK A WHILE! I am so sorry, you guys, I have not been up for writing for a couple of days:( I've got a lot of personal issues going on right now, but thanks to a certain someone (cough, Uncontrollable-book-nerd, cough) who totally guilted me in to writing this chapter, I have finished it! This one is from Angelica's pov, so lots of action:D**

"I need to go see a certain someone, Eliza." I said in a low voice, not trusting myself to turn and face her. My hands clenched into fists, renewed rage surging through my body. I need to find him.

And kill him.

"Angie, don't. Please, don't… I can't lose you too!" Eliza shouted at me, as I sped towards the front door. I hurried through the sitting area, through the kitchen, and ripped the front door open. Slamming it, I rushed across the Pendleton's porch and down the front steps.

Running across the lawn, I managed to get the attention of the revolutionary who had brought me here.

"Eddings! I need the horse!" I yelled, grabbing the reins from him. To his credit, he didn't even question me, immediately dropping on one knee so I could use him as a step. I flung my leg across the fidgety horse's back, quickly finding my other stirrup.

"Hya!" I shouted, giving a big kick to my steed. I raced towards the crooked bar in the bad part of town, a place Burr frequented for some reason. I dashed through the streets, thankful that it was still early enough that nobody was out walking. I took a turn, and ended up galloping next to the Hudson. I urged the horse to go faster, and we made it to the street harboring the bar. I flung my right leg over the animals back and slid to the ground.

"You can graze while I'm gone, hon." I pulled the reins up so he wouldn't step on them and let his head fall, focused on the grass. I ran onto the cobblestone road, my dress sweeping up dust and creating a cloud behind me. Usually the atmosphere outside of the bar was filled with the shouts of drunkards. But, today was quiet… unnervingly quiet. What if Burr wasn't here? What if he was so ashamed, he couldn't face anyone and just went home?

My doubts were squashed when I passed by a window that looked right into the bar.

Burr, sat at the bar seat nearest the door, was focusing intently on his glass while all the patrons in the room were glaring at him.

Serves him right.

I stepped away from the window, taking a breath. _You can do this, Angelica, you're a Schuyler, after all._ Turning, I headed towards the door.

I practically ripped the door off its hinges, bursting in like a hurricane. All eyes turned to me, quickly looking away when they saw who I was.

Burr was holding his drink a hair away from his lips, eyes frozen on mine. My fists clenched for the hundredth time that day, and my rage was refueled by the mere sight of him.

"Burr, you son of a bitch." I gritted out. I wanted to strangle him, to watch him turn blue. I wanted him to burn in hell for causing my family so much pain.

He slowly lowered his drink to the bar surface, inhaling deeply before turning to me. His dark brown eyes were a mixture of relief and… regret?

"Angelica Schuyler." He smoothly said. "I thought you were in London."

How dare he ask about me so calmly, as if this was a goddamn dinner party?!

"I came back to visit my sister and brother-in-law a few days ago, jackass." I bitterly said. "Is that _all_ you have to say to me, Burr?"

His eyes glanced at the crowd behind him, trying to subtly eavesdrop on our conversation. He slightly shook his head, rising from his seat. He held his head high, strolling over to me and opening the door. He gestured for me to go first, and, with suspicious eyes, I did.

The cool midday air swept around us as we walked. I had no clue where he was leading me, but then again, this was the dramatic Aaron Burr. He probably wanted to die near the river to look cool.

We slowed near the edge of the Hudson, standing there in the slight breeze for a moment. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, almost like he was trying to figure out how to apologize for murdering my brother.

"I… am sorry for what I did, Angelica." He whispered, uncharacteristically. "I saw, too late, that he was aiming at the sky and…"

My glare resumed its place on my face, "And what? And I'm sorry I didn't even try to move my hand? To shoot somewhere else?!" I put my hands on my hips, turning and facing him head on.

He swallowed heavily, his hands began to fidget in his pockets. He gradually raised his head, looking at me with wavering confidence.

"And… I did not think that he would actually aim at the sky." He lamely finished. "I did not think that I would actually shoot first, to be honest."

Oh… so that's what happened. Well then, neither did I.

Aaron Burr was well-known for… waiting, to be honest. His response to almost every question he was asked would be, 'Talk less, smile more, and wait for it.' The man was a damn annoyance, never actually answering anything with a proper answer.

I bit my lip, contemplating my next move. Glancing around the grass we were standing on, I tried to think of ways I could insult him. It was harder now though, now that I saw the despair hidden behind his brown orbs. _You could just… hit him, you know. No warning whatsoever, just… SMACK._

He seemed to know what I was thinking, as he put his hands up in a classic surrender pose. His eyes fell to the ground and he solemnly nodded.

"I know, you want to kill me." He acknowledged. "But, I thought he was honestly going to shoot me. For once in my life, I couldn't afford to wait. I have a daughter to think about, Angelica."

I nodded. I knew that feeling, I have a son with my husband. If I was face to face with a pistol, held by a quick to act man-child, I probably wouldn't even think before shooting. But, it was different for Burr, since Theodosia had passed away, leaving her daughter with just one parent.

"I know you do, Aaron." I managed to say, grinding my teeth. "But, Alexander has… had six kids to think about. Not to mention, Eliza is still recovering from Philip's death."

He didn't respond. He lowered his hands, letting them hang limply at his side.

"Can we make a deal, Angelica?" He whispered, still staring at the ground. "If I let you hit me, hell, you can beat me 'til I'm immobile, will you let me leave alive? My daughter will not be made an orphan, please…"

I... I don't know what to do. Do I beat him, but let him live? I don't think I could live with the knowledge that I made some poor girl an orphan. But could I stop? If I throw away his shot, is this how they'll remember me? What if this fight is my legacy? _No... no, stop it, you're starting to sound like Alexander, Angelica._

I looked at the shell of a man standing in front of me. The man who could tear a person down with words, just like Alexander, but also a stark contrast.

I raised my hand, clenching it into a fist. "Burr."

He lifted his head; My fist shot forward. It connected with his jaw, the shock of it caused Burr to fall backwards, landing on his back. He didn't move for a moment, just laid there with his head against the ground and his arms spread out like wings. He released a deep breath, gradually opening his eyes. He squinted at the sun above him. Looking up at me, he nodded.

"Okay."

"Good. Don't touch my family again." I calmly stated, turning to leave. "And, Burr, next time… just you wait."

 **A/N: Please, please, read and review! If there is someone you'd like the next chapter to be, holla at me:)**


	4. John Laurens

**A/N: HIIII! I am so incredibly super-ty super sorry that it took so long to get this out. I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to finish this... But, anyways, here it is and I hope you enjoy that last chapter of Just You Wait!**

"…Adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great a distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens."

I slightly frowned; Should I really send this letter to him? I'll be going to New York City in less than two days. There's no use sending him a letter when I'll be there to tell him the contents in person. I crumpled up the two-page letter, tossing it in the small trash can. I shimmied my chair closer to my little table, deciding to write Lafayette instead.

 _Knock, knock._

The sound echoed in my small bedroom, startling me into a standing position. Lightly chuckling at my timidity, I walked towards the door and opened it.

"John, there's a messenger for you downstairs." My father stood in the hallway, a grim look settled on his features. "He says it's urgent."

Knitting my eyebrows together, I nodded. The war was over, I had spoken with most of my friends recently, they were all alive and well… What could be urgent?

 _Oh, Christ, General Schuyler was sick the last I heard… Could it be a message from Alexander or Peggy? Could the general be dead?_

My father stepped away, entering his office at the end of the hall. I exited my room, half-running to the stairs and hurrying down them. I jumped off the last step, flattening my shirt as I appeared in the entrance hall.

The messenger, a familiar face, was none other than Hercules Mulligan. I'd forgotten he had liked being the bringer of information so much, he took up a job in the New York postal service. What was he doing all the way in South Carolina?

"Laurens, it's good to see you." The giant dismally nodded at me, concerning me at once. Hercules was usually such a good-natured partier, it was always bad news when he was so serious.

"Mulligan, it's good to see you, as well." I returned with a tight grin. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Laurens, I am tremendously sorry…" He began, his voice small and uneager. "But, I've recently been informed that Alexander… He was killed, John."

My world spun. Mulligan blurred, my home blurred. I saw Alexander's face peering at me from across the room, his face laced with worry.

I fell against the banister, clinging onto it with one hand and holding my heart with the other. Mulligan crossed the short distance between us; he gently placed a hand on my shoulder. I gripped his hand with mine, relieved that I had a friend with me. He closed his eyes, as did I, and we breathed in synchronization.

No words were uttered. There was no need; it was simple.

Our friend was dead, and words were his. It would hurt too much to speak, to say words that he said.

I can't recall how long we stood there, or when my father packed my bag and left it beside the front door. I can't recall when Mulligan and I got onto the horses my father had sent for, or the days that passed as we rode to New York City. I can't recall learning that it was Burr who was the damn fool that shot Alexander. I can't recall seeing the remaining Schuyler sisters sitting closely together, and holding their tears as we gave our condolences.

I can't recall seeing Lafayette, Madison, Jefferson, and Washington all dressed in uncharacteristic black. I can't recall crying at the thousands of people flooding the streets to attend his funeral, singing the drinking song from a previous battle. I meandered through it all in such a dreamlike state. There is one thing, though, that I unfortunately can recall.

I can recall the pain, and the fact that I was broken.

They say that a person cracks over time, when they lose their first girlfriend or job. In one afternoon, I shattered completely.

They say that the heart breaks when the love of your life dies, and that it'll eventually fix when you meet another. I say… No.

My heart is broken, my mind is broken. I cannot see myself loving another as I loved Alexander. It will remain broken, until the day I die and see him again.

The day we arrived in New York City, was the day Alexander was to be buried. He was laid to rest in Trinity Church, a beloved husband, father, and soldier. I saw Eliza, holding onto Angelica for dear life.

I saw soldiers, some familiar, some not, saluting his grave. I saw younger men, peeking over the crowd to read Alexander's epitaph, which held many more words than the average gravestone.

 _The Patriot of incorruptible integrity._

 _The soldier of approved valour._

 _The statesman of consummate wisdom._

 _Whose talents and virtues will be admired_

 _Long after this marble shall have mouldered into dust._

Alexander, there isn't a doubt in my mind that you'll be admired for hundreds of years to come.

And now, dear boy, there isn't a doubt in my mind that you'll be waiting for me in heaven.

 **A/N: Please read and review! This is the last chapter of Just You Wait, I apologize if you guys were expecting another character to have a chapter. I can always write a separate piece if you'd like a POV from another character, if you'd like to send me a request! :)**


	5. Madison and Jefferson

**A/N: Okay, so I know I said John was the last chapter, but I got a request for Jefferson and Madison and y'all know I can't say no to my readers;) Enjoy!**

"That bastard." I gritted through my teeth. "James! Have you read this?!"

James hollered from the kitchen, "I'll be up in a minute!"

I grumbled, rereading the godforsaken letter. Alexander Hamilton, in all his stupidity, died in a duel.

By Aaron Burr, nonetheless.

I scanned over it, catching the names 'Angelica' and 'Eliza'. Apparently, he took long enough to die that they were with him when died. Even when the man is dying, he won't quit.

"Can you believe that the bastard died?!" I shouted, wincing when James touched my shoulder.

"No need to yell, Thomas." He quietly told me, gently taking the rumpled letter from my hands. I mumbled a _sorry_ as he looked at it. His brown eyes quickly surveyed the paper, humming as he read.

"That's quite the shame, his poor wife…" He murmured, handing it back to me. "Those two never did like each other, huh, Thomas?"

"Yes, yes, they were very prickly to one another." I agreed. "Probably because they're both pricks…"

James swatted my arm, sternly glaring at me. "Don't speak ill of the dead, Thomas. It's not kind."

I shrugged. James and I had been friends for a while, this banter was usual for us. Obviously, he's the kinder part of our friendship. Though, over the years, I must admit; He's softened me. Despite his rather large size, he was quite like a small grandmother. He always made sure I had eaten, had showered, and was getting work done. He was almost a… manly wife, to be blunt.

"You know, Alexander had his moments," I muttered, remembering all the stupid shit that man had done during his time on Earth. "But, all in all, he was a good man. Except for the affair."

Another stern glare from James, and I was up and grabbing ink for a ' _my sincerest condolences'_ letter.

First, I wrote one to Mrs. Hamilton, saying the Alexander was a "great man" and "top-notch politician."

Cough, _lies,_ cough.

I also said he will be missed, which is true, since his family will miss him. I sure as hell won't, though. Well, not as much as his fans. I might, maybe, miss the bickering, just a little bit. I sighed, putting down my quill and enclosing the last letter. One directed to Burr, congratulating him on being a damn fool and berating him for being a _damn fool_.

I stacked them on my desk, leaving them to await the weekly messenger who would come tomorrow. James stood silently across from me now, watching my movements.

"What?" I inquired, tilting my head with curiosity. He shrugged, instead calling out to Sally to bring up some tea.

"Yes, sir, right away!" She yelled from the lower floor.

"James, contrary to popular belief," I started. "Tea isn't the answer."

"Thomas, we need to take a break." He firmly stated, falling into the armchair behind him. "Drink some tea, and then plan our next move. Like, will we be attending the funeral?"

"Of course, it'd look terrible if we didn't." I declared, mentally noting what I should wear. "Ugh, I look awful in black…"

James scowled, standing when there was a knock at the door. "Your tea, sir!"

He opened it to Sally, who stood holding a small wooden tray adorned with a pair of fine china cups. He smiled at her, before taking the tray in one hand and waving her away with the other one. Closing the door behind her, James strolled over to me.

"Tom-" He began.

"Don't call me that," I interjected. "I'm a grown-ass man, James."

Placing the tray on the desk top, he raised his hands in mock-surrender. "Sorry, no need to get your panties in a bunch, _Thomas._ "

I leaned back, crossing my arms, and sighed. "What were you saying before?"

"Ah, the funeral. What's our plan?" He asked, pouring tea in a cup that was much too small for his large hands. "Should we show and give our condolences discretely, or write a piece on Hamilton's honor and all the credit he gave us?"

I nodded, digesting his suggestions. "Maybe, if we go quietly and pay our respects to him and his family, that'll mean less questions from the public. I definitely don't want to have to compliment the man when I have nothing of substance."

"Okay." James breathed. "Fine, we'll go quietly and leave quietly. Deal?"

I gave him a thumbs-up, which seemed too ridiculous for the seriousness of the conversation. But what the hell, I'm tired and sick of talking.

We left that evening, him on one of the geldings and me on one of the mares. We didn't feel like putting together bags and such for a carriage, so we had quickly changed into mourning clothes. We left in black under the darkening of the sky.

I had tried to put my hair up, unwilling to deal with the bounciness today. James had stopped me, saying that I'd look too different; which was ridiculous, honestly, who else looks like moi? So, I had left it down, and as we rode it flew everywhere, tapping against my face. I couldn't stand hearing James' muffled chuckles through the wind.

We arrived in New York around mid-morning, surprised at how many people were milling about. We had gone straight to the local stable, to drop off our horses, and had trouble maneuvering them through the thick crowd. Shops weren't open, yet people still ran amuck, yelling out orders and such. A young woman passed by me in a tizzy, a basket full of flowers hugged to her chest. A single lily fell from her grip, softly dropping to the ground.

"Oh, ma'am!" James called, bending down to pick up the forgotten flower. The woman, fine-skinned and tall, turned around with a hum.

"Yes?" She inquired, lightly gasping and striding back to us when she spotted the lily. "Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure." James bowed and handed it back to her, mirroring her smile. She giggled, curtsying back, and went on her way. I rolled my eyes at James, his eyes glued to the woman's lower half as she strolled away.

"Wow, James, you're such a gentleman." I squeaked, using my best woman voice. "So strong, holding that lily all on your own."

"Shut it." He growled, smacking the side of my head. "You're only furthering my suspicions of you being a smartass."

"Suspicions? Darling, you _know_ I'm a smartass." I shot back, rubbing my ear. "Anyways, where's Trinity Church?"

He bobbed his head to the right, and we left our horses with the stable boy. We took off down the street on foot, James leading the way since people moved for him. You'd be surprised at the reactions a stylish Southern man gets, I know, you'd assume that people would be falling at my feet. Wrong. Nobody would move for me, and I had to resort to using James as a sort of leader in crowds. I felt like a child, holding onto the back of his coat.

Finally, the church spires reached our sights. We merged into the mulling people, muttering apologies as we pushed our way to the doors of the church. I spotted two women in long black gowns, one with dark brown hair hidden in a bun under her hat. The other, who was much shorter, had long black hair that was gently pulled back and swooped in a band.

 _'_ _The remaining Schuyler sisters.'_ My mind informed me.

They stood, clinging to each other, on the top steps of the church looking upon the hundreds of people flooding the streets. _His poor wife, she only has Angelica left._

James bumped my shoulder, indicating that we were getting closer. There were a few people left in front of us, paying their respects to the steel-faced widow. Soon enough it was our turn, and Angelica gasped when she saw us.

"Thomas!" She breathed, glancing at Eliza before letting go. She came down the steps and engulfed me in a hug. "I haven't heard from you in months! I'm sorry, I should've told you about Ale… him sooner."

"No, no, it's fine," I assured her, keeping her close with a loose grip on her hand. "I received a letter from Washington, actually."

She quickly nodded. "Of course."

I looked over at her sister, who was now holding onto the arm of General Schuyler. His face was stern and weary, almost an exact mirror of Eliza's. I stepped past Angelica, and stood beside James in front of the solemn pair.

"General, my condolences." I saluted. "Mrs. Hamilton, I'm extremely sorry for your loss. Alexander was… an interesting man."

The ghost of a smile flitted across her pale lips. "Thank you, Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Madison. I appreciate your presence, though I doubt my husband would."

I froze. Was that an invitation to leave?

"Eliza, quit fooling, you're scaring the poor man." Angelica's voice lightly scolded, though her worn face wore a slight grin. Eliza nodded, letting go of her father and reaching her hand towards me.

"I apologize, Mr. Jefferson." She firmly told me, shaking my hand. "But, I find it best to find the light even in the darkest of situations."

"I wholeheartedly agree with you, Mrs. Hamilton." I sincerely told her. "I can see why Alexander loved you so."

Her cheeks pinked, and she smiled at me once more before turning to a couple behind James and me. I bid adieu to Angelica and her father before departing with James. We made it as far as two blocks before he spoke.

"Thank you for being kind about Hamilton, Thomas." He quietly stated, patting me on the shoulder. "I mean it, you're a good man."

"I'm only good 'cause I have you." I muttered under my breath. My eyes widened at what I had just said aloud, and I quickly checked James' face. He kept looking ahead, so maybe he hadn't heard me.

I sighed in relief. "You're a good man, too, James."

We took a turn, and crossed the street to reach the stable. James turned to me, raising his eyebrow.

"What? You are." I repeated, confused as to his reaction.

He laughed. "Of course I am, I have you."

 **A/N: Please read and review! I've never really written these two, so feedback is appreciated!**


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